


How To Tame Your Rabbit

by DryDreams



Series: Like Rabbits [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: But also, Coming In Pants, Dom Martin, Edging, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Toys, brief casual discussion of transition and top surgery and the lack thereof, he's helpful, little a dom Jon as a treat, mild ignoring, oops all trans, playboy bunny Tim, they're all switches but for jon its a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryDreams/pseuds/DryDreams
Summary: Tim is peering up at them through his eyelashes now, as if daring them to do something.“Come on,” he says, softly taunting. “You’ve gotta get me close to edge me.”
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker/Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Series: Like Rabbits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983403
Comments: 14
Kudos: 152





	How To Tame Your Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Hop, Skip and a Jump, if you haven't read that you should pop over and do it first!! It's great I promise

“Hey, Tim.”

“Hm?”

“Is that little red number clean again? From the other week?”

Tim nearly hits his head on the inside of the fridge as he straightens up, staring at Martin over the top of the door.

“Uh, yep. Why?”

Martin takes a casual sip of his tea, amused when Tim’s jaw tics with passive impatience. 

“Do you remember what I said we should do next time you wear it?”

Tim’s pupils visibly dilate and his mouth falls open slightly. “Yeah.” He says shortly. 

“Shut the fridge, Tim.”

Tim does, carelessly as he clearly forgets what he was doing in the first place and walks over to get up in Martin’s space. “When?” He asks, sneaking his fingertips under the sleeve of Martin’s sweater, standing so close that their hips press together. Martin puts his tea on the table and his hands on Tim’s waist. 

“Whenever you like.” 

“Jon will be home late tonight.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

_“Yes.”_

As an apology for getting Tim all riled up with no place to go, Martin presses him against the counter and shoves a hand down the front of his pants; fucks him on two, three, four fingers until he comes, breathlessly babbling against Martin’s throat. Then Martin lets himself be taken to bed, lets Tim bury his face between Martin’s thighs for an hour and a half. Just to tide him over. 

When Jon comes home Tim is fast asleep. All fucked out, face pressed into Martin’s stomach, curls flat against his forehead. Jon surveys the scene, bemused, and then crawls in next to them, taking up residence at Martin’s other side. Martin kisses him and traces the knobs of his spine through his shirt, whispering his plans for tomorrow as they both fade to sleep. 

They’ve got nothing to do the next day, but they make Tim wait a while anyways. It’s fun getting him all riled up, pretending they don’t know why he’s being more handsy than usual. But he’s very good— or at least he doesn’t demand anything, instead resorting to stealing kisses and sidling up to slip his hands under hems and into back pockets. By the time Martin decides to give him what he wants that evening, he’s just about rutting against Martin’s leg on the couch rather than just asking for what he wants. 

“Alright, Jesus,” Martin says, reaching up to grab a handful of Tim’s hair. Immediately Tim goes still, eyes widening. Jon looks up at them from his chair across the room, meeting Martin’s eye. “You’re awfully needy, you know that?” Martin says, tilting his head at Jon in question. Jon flips forward in his book, looking for the end of his chapter, looks satisfied to find it on the next page, and then nods. 

Tim grins. “You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Go get dressed. Don’t put the ribbon on, just bring it here. And whatever you want me to put inside you. You choose.”

Instead of hopping up right away like Martin expects him to, Tim slides his hand over the crease of Martin's thigh, squeezing firmly as he leans forward. Martin’s grip on his hair falters and he pulls free, pressing his mouth against the shell of Martin’s ear.

Martin goes hot all over, exhaling sharply as Tim murmurs, breath puffing against Martin’s temple. “Let’s make it a game.”

There’s a soft sound as Jon closes his book and sets it on the table next to him. Martin’s eyes flick to him. “What are the rules?” Martin asks. 

Martin feels Tim grin before he pulls back and presents it like it’s the greatest idea he’s ever had. “I think Jon should make them.” 

Jon squints at Tim indignantly but gives a crooked smile nonetheless, a little glint in his eye says he’s already got an idea. Either that, or he’s peeked into Tim’s head and he’s feeling agreeable. He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and gestures to the floor in front of Martin. 

“He sits there. Between your legs. Whoever initiates contact between him and your cunt first loses. If Tim wins, he gets to be in charge next time.” He pauses, and Martin knows his ears are red just from Jon _mentioning_ him like that, in such a casual, professional manner. 

Tim is still grinning, in the corner of his vision. Jon continues. “If you win… I do.”

The way Martin’s jaw drops slightly at that is somewhat embarrassing. But Jon _doesn’t,_ hardly ever at least, much as it ruins Martin when he does. Jon doesn’t like having control, in fact he prefers giving as much of it away as possible, especially when he and Martin are alone.

But they know he’s got it in him, always have, he is their _boss_ after all and sometimes, oh sometimes, he still gets that little frown on his face and that tone to his voice, the tone he’s got now, and he tells one of them to fetch something or fix something or to take care of themselves or what the fuck ever and Martin’s knees get a bit wobbly. It’s different from the way he’s usually bossy with Tim, it’s not that bratty push and pull. It’s firm and serious and the novelty of it just makes it all the more effective and Martin is suddenly very worried about his ability to carry out this endeavor effectively. 

“You… _you_ do?”

Jon holds his gaze steady and Tim whistles low. “Yes. Are these terms acceptable?”

“I feel they might be a bit unfair, actually—“ Martin stammers, and then sputters as Tim slides a hand over his mouth. 

“Are the terms _fun?”_ Tim gleefully reiterates.

Martin glares at him, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away. “I accept the terms.” He says.

“Cool.” Jon says simply, softly. 

The smile Jon gives Martin is a bit shy, and Martin just stares at him for a long moment, like his brain is processing. “And what are you going to do right now?” He asks finally, tentatively pushing a bit of his dom voice forward to see how Jon will respond as Tim moves to get up.

Jon follows suit, standing up out of his chair. “I’m going to watch.” He says, stepping towards them. Tim steps forward to meet him, pulling him in for a needlessly dramatic kiss. When they pull apart he leans forward to whisper something into Jon’s ear that makes Jon’s eyes dart to Martin and a smile play on his lips. 

Before Martin can express his offense at this obvious plotting, Tim steps away and practically twirls off to the bedroom. Jon folds himself down onto the couch cushion Tim vacated, curling against Martin’s side like a cat. Martin obligingly puts an arm around his shoulder, nosing against his temple and pressing a kiss under his eye. Jon hums, sliding a hand up his chest and leaving it there.

“You know perfectly well how much it’s going to wreck me if you do this.” Martin murmurs. “It’s a good thing you made it my prize and not my penalty, or I’d have thrown the game.”

“Mm, yes, you’re going to have to work for it.”

“I don’t know if we can classify it as _work.”_

“You’re a sucker. When Tim starts drooling on your pant leg and begging you to let him taste it will become work.”

“Christ.” Martin mutters as he turns and catches Jon by the chin, tipping it up and leaning close, pausing just a breath away from his lips. “When are _you_ gonna do that for me again, hm?” He whispers, and feels Jon smile as he pushes forward into the kiss.

“You first,” Jon murmurs when they pull back. They’ve not even started anything and Martin is already hopelessly aroused; he feels feverishly hot at the thought of being on his knees for Jon. 

“I’m supposed to be playing it cool, you dickhead. I feel like you’re messing with my odds here.”

Jon just smiles and shrugs. “Maybe I think Tim needs a head start.”

The man in question takes that opportune moment to waltz back into the room, sans the tights this time but remarkably breathtaking nonetheless in the playboy style corset. Somehow even more so than last time, Martin thinks vaguely as he watches Tim rather suggestively perch on the arm of the couch. The red satin looks so very nice against his skin, and Martin vividly remembers how it feels under his hands. 

Martin’s eyes follow the movement as Tim crosses one bare leg over the other and then dart back up to his face, lingering on his red mouth before glancing at his hair. “That was fast.” Martin comments, looking pointedly at the state of Tim’s curls, which look like they’ve been fucked with all night already, the bunny ears headband sort of haphazardly placed. “What did you bring?”

Tim brandishes the toy like a sword, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he grins. “For me,” he says, and then tosses something towards them. Jon catches it instinctively and then inspects it where Martin can see. It’s a small remote control. 

“For you!” Tim continues, already holding up two other things. “Also for me— and,” he tosses another little box, towards Martin this time. “Again for you.”

Martin testily clicks the button on and off quickly and one of the smaller things in Tim’s hand buzzes to life for a brief moment, a somewhat flat little vibe that will be perfect for slipping into the crotch of the corset. “You know, we probably have one thing that could do the job of all three of those.” Jon muses, turning his own remote over in his hand. 

“I like these ones.” Tim says simply. “Besides, this way you both can play.”

“What’s the third..?” Martin asks, peering at the thing that has not vibrated. Tim puts the dildo in his lap and holds up a glass plug, a speckled purple— it will pick up vibrations nicely. “Ah.” Martin says softly, feeling a little lightheaded. There’s a faint bruise at the base of Tim’s throat that Jon left a few days ago. Martin thinks he might lose this game. 

Tim chews on his bottom lip, still grinning, obviously restlessly excited. “And what do you want me to do with this?”

He shakes his hand slightly as he holds it up and Martin realizes he’s got the ribbon, too. Right. 

“Oh. Well, put those down for a second and come here.”

Jon doesn’t bother to make room as Tim puts the small pile on the couch and slinks over to them. Martin gestures for him to turn around and then tugs at his waist, guiding him to sit on his knee, far enough back so that he’s straddling his leg. Jon’s hand lifts from Martin’s chest and settles back on Tim’s thigh. “No tights, huh?” Martin remarks, tugging under the teddy with a finger before holding a hand out. 

“Fuck you, you know what you did.” Tim responds, placing the ribbon in Martin’s waiting palm.

“You could have gotten new ones.” Martin pulls gently at Tim’s arm, twisting it behind his back. Tim brings the other back himself, folding them together so that Martin can get a grip on both his wrists at once. 

“If you want to start a fund for tights I only wear one time so you can destroy them, be my guest.” 

“Don’t be an ass,” Martin teases. He loops the ribbon around Tim’s wrists in a practiced tie. “You liked it.”

Tim flexes his fingers testily as Martin finishes the knot, checking the snugness. “I did like it! Very sexy, ten out of ten. But I’m not made of money. _Or_ nylon. I’m just being practical.”

“So if I became your mysterious benefactor you’d accept the tights I provide you and let me rip them without complaining?”

Jon huffs out a laugh at that, but Tim doesn’t. Instead, a low and quiet moan slips from his throat and Martin looks up at the back of his head, taken by surprise. “Wh—“ 

He doesn’t get the question out before Jon shifts and Tim shifts with him, hips canting forward slightly as Jon’s hand moves in his lap. _Oh._

“You little sneak,” Martin says quietly, making no move to hinder them, instead leaning forward to see. He’s just in time to catch the last teasing drag of Jon’s fingertips over the red satin before he tugs it to the side. Tim’s swollen little dick twitches noticeably as the air hits it and he sucks in a sharp breath, twisting a bit in Martin’s lap. 

Somewhat self indulgently Martin slides his hands up to Tim’s waist and pulls him back, until he’s pressed fully against Martin’s chest. His head lolls back onto Martin’s shoulder as Jon rolls his dick between two fingers and then slides down, dipping between his folds. 

Tim lets out a pleasured sigh, twisting his head so he can get his mouth on Martin’s neck. “This isn’t exactly the hands free experience that you promised,” he mumbles in between messy kisses. 

“Are you _complaining?”_ Martin cranes his neck to watch Jon’s fingers disappear as he presses them inside Tim. Tim groans happily, back bending in a way Martin wishes he could see from every angle. 

“If you’d rather try to figure out how to get all those toys inside you without using your hands, be my guest.” Jon adds and Tim picks up his head to stick out his tongue at the top of Jon’s head. Jon tips his face up and gives him a bemused look, before Tim leans down to give him a smacking kiss. 

“I’m not complaining.”

“You’re being cheeky,” Martin says, reaching up to grab a fistful of Tim’s hair and pull his head to the side. “Not very smart when we decide when you come.” 

Tim shivers and hums happily when Martin kisses behind his ear and starts to suck a mark under his jaw. “Oh I’m so _scared,”_ he taunts breathlessly. “You’re going to edge me for _ages_ how _awful.”_

Jon snorts with laughter again and Tim brightly joins him. Martin gives his hair a sharp tug, even as he’s hiding his smile. “Brat.”

“I learned from the best!”

“You were a brat before you met either of us.” 

“Well I’ve gotten better at— oh _fuck, Jon,”_ Tim cuts himself off with a moan as Jon presses two more fingers into him at once. 

“That’s probably true,” Jon murmurs. “Though you weren’t half bad at it the first time.” 

“I— _what?”_ Tim half gasps half laughs, hips bucking like he can’t help himself.

A laugh bubbles out of Martin’s throat and he drops his head to Tim’s shoulder as he snickers. “You got better. At fucking Jon.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tim groans. “You’ve not gotten better at jokes.” 

“Well that’s just rude,” Jon replies matter of factly, his smile still obvious in his tone. He slips his fingers out of Tim, rubbing over his dick before taking them away completely. Tim whines, squirming. 

“I take it back, you’re the funniest man I know, I—“

“Hush,” Jon says fondly, reaching behind him. “Do you want a cock in you or not?”

“Mm, can I have the plug first?” 

“You just don’t want me to stop touching you.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I can literally read your mind.”

“Twat, you did not either.”

_“Hush!”_

Martin tunes out their bickering slightly, more occupied with Tim’s shoulders. He tongues at a particularly indented scar as he slides his hand slow down Tim’s other arm, tracing the lines of his bicep before moving on to his waist. He skims his palm up Tim’s side until he reaches the place where the satin ends and Tim’s skin begins, and Tim twitches as he runs his finger along the stiff top of the garment, over his ribs and then to his chest, where he pauses thoughtfully. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him until now how easily accessible the teddy was up _here._

Jon is giving some sort of instruction as Martin slides his hand under the top of the corset and palms at Tim’s chest. The result is dramatic; Tim curses and twists, and Martin can feel him flexing his fingers behind his back. 

_“Martin,”_ he gasps and Martin grins, nosing back up to kiss under his ear again as he finds Tim’s nipple and tweaks it hard. _“F-ffuck,”_ Tim whines, arching into the touch. 

Jon grumbles something next to them and tugs at Martin’s shirt. Somewhat begrudgingly Martin pulls himself away from Tim’s neck and gives Jon his attention. 

“You’re getting distracted.” Jon says huffily, and holds up his hand demonstrably. His fingers are shiny wet and Martin has the sudden urge to lean forward and lick them. He doesn’t, blinking at Jon instead until he realizes what the implication here is. 

“Oh. _Oh._ Right, okay, Tim—“ He pulls his hand away, trying to figure out the best way to configure them all to make this easier, _why did he decide to do this on the couch, goddammit._ The most sensible thing would be to turn Tim around, and then—

A bit frantically he taps at Tim’s hip. “Up, come on.”

“Ugh, must I?” Tim grumbles, shuffling forward until he can put his feet on the ground. Martin reaches out to help steady him as he stands, clumsily turns around and puts a knee up on the couch next to Martin. Jon makes room, scooting away enough for Tim to throw his other leg over Martin’s lap, basically doing some sort of ridiculous trust fall as he utterly fails to keep his balance. Martin catches him easily so that he doesn’t pitch forward, but when he settles he is slightly out of breath, hair flopping into his face and face flushed. Martin’s eyes are drawn to his chest as it rises and falls, lingering there for a bit longer than he means. When his eyes flick back up to Tim’s face it’s split with a crooked grin. 

“Hi.” He says, and Martin’s face goes hot again. 

“Hello.” Martin responds and then decides there’s no point in pretending that he doesn’t know exactly what he wants. With a hand under Tim’s ass he drags him closer, then tugs at the front of the corset to bend him down slightly. The result puts Martin roughly at eye level with his neckline, and his ass well in reach of Jon’s sticky fingers.

Tim looks down at him with a glint in his eye that says he also knows exactly what Martin wants. The little shimmy he does as he leans even further forward confirms this, forcing Martin to tip his head back against the top of the couch to avoid the collision of his nose with Tim’s sternum. 

“Don’t look so smug,” Martin murmurs, even as he leans up to press a sucking kiss to Tim’s chest. Tim just laughs as Martin noses his way down, tugging the teddy out of the way so he can lick at Tim’s nipple.

“I can’t believe your tits just got _flat._ You’re so sensitive, I can’t feel a damn thing against mine,” Martin complains, and then sucks the little bud into his mouth. Tim gasps and presses closer, resting his chin somewhat awkwardly on the top of Martin’s head. It’s vaguely claustrophobic but Martin doesn’t mind; if anything he’s reveling in it. Being stuck between some soft tits and a hard place is nothing to complain about. Distantly he realizes that it’s probably rather hard on Tim’s thighs keeping his balance like this. Knowing him, though, he’s probably enjoying the strain. Martin doesn’t comment on it. Well, he couldn’t if he wanted to. 

“Itty bitty titty committee, baby.” Tim responds. 

“I don’t see how that could have had anything to do with it.” Jon mutters. “Mine are very much still here.” 

“Why are you so goddamn suspicious?”

“Just glad there’s no footage of you under the knife that could be randomly projected into my brain. It would distress me.” 

“Oddly sweet of you babe, but I did get my appendix out.”

“Don’t you _dare.”_

Martin knows when Jon gets his fingers in Tim again because he stiffens slightly, letting out a strangled sound, effectively ending the banter. Martin scrapes his teeth over the nipple in his mouth and Tim hisses. 

Unable to resist once the thought occurs to him, Martin slides his hand down Tim’s side and over the swell of his ass. When he finds the place where Jon’s fingers disappear his stomach flips with arousal. Questioningly he presses one finger down and Tim jerks violently. 

“Hold on.” Jon says softly and then his fingers withdraw, leaving Martin to slide his over Tim’s hole as it gapes ever so slightly. Then Jon is back, his fingers freshly slick, and when he presses them back in Martin hooks his middle finger easily in with them. 

Tim is leaning fully on Martin now, face turned away as he rests his cheek on the back of the couch. He’s drawing in lovely little shuddery breaths. 

“Alright?” Martin asks, bumping his cheek gently against Tim’s shoulder.

“Yeah, _yeah,_ just, _Jesus_ this is _hot,”_ Tim responds breathlessly and Martin laughs.

“I think he’s perfectly ready, love.” Martin directs at Jon and Jon hums agreeably even as Tim lets out a disappointed little whine.

When Jon takes his fingers away this time Martin leaves his, tugging slightly to make Tim squirm. Jon doesn’t ask him to move, either, just presses the cool glass of the plug up against his knuckle questioningly. Martin tugs again in answer, as if holding Tim open and when Jon starts to push it Tim makes a noise like he’s sobbing.

The plug goes in fairly easy, it’s not too large and Tim opens so sweetly. Martin has to take his hand away in the end to let it settle properly, and when he does he realizes that Tim’s thighs are trembling. 

“Do you need to sit back soon?” Martin queries but Jon is already back with the other toy, having made the decision to hurry things up. Tim breathes out sharply and shifts restlessly.

“‘M okay for a bit longer,” he says and the softness in his voice betrays that he’s starting to zone out. Martin mentally adjusts in kind, preparing to pay closer attention and letting his grip on Tim’s waist firm up.

Jon seems to have no trouble getting the dildo in and Tim lets out a shaky sigh, pushing back against it. Martin peers over his shoulder again as Jon fixes the teddy, pulling it neatly back into place over the base of the toys. He strokes over them through the fabric, pushing slightly on one, then the other, satisfied when he gets a small jerk from Tim each time. Finally he pulls away, presumably to grab the vibrator from behind him. 

“Sit up for me.” He urges, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder to assist. Martin guides Tim as he sways upright, finally getting the weight off his shaking thighs. This puts some space between all of them too, allowing Martin to properly see everyone. Jon’s sleeves are rolled up and his cheeks are tinged with color, in that way they always are when Tim goes soft for them like this. He gives Martin a fond smile as he catches his gaze, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

Tim is a sight, eyes hazy and face flushed, mouth hanging open just slightly as he takes in uneven breaths. The top of the teddy is still shoved down somewhat from Martin messing with it, showing off the faint marks that are forming on one side of his chest and the hint of one pink nipple. 

“You look like you’ve already been here for hours,” Martin says. Tim grins drunkenly. 

“Y’r telling me I haven’t?” His eyes flick downward to where Jon is reaching out to him again, to slip the last toy into place. The flat little vibe fits quite nicely; they bought it for this purpose after all, to sit in someone’s pants, but had never put it to much use.

“There.” Jon says with a little pat to Tim’s cunt over the fabric that makes Tim twitch and his breath hitch. “No more touching for you until further notice.”

Tim pouts and Martin has to catch himself to keep from joining him. “Almost forgot about that part,” he mumbles, sliding his palms down Tim’s thighs and resting them on his knees.

“I know you did.” Jon says and Tim giggles. Squinting at him, Jon settles back at Martin’s side. All of a sudden Tim startles, eyes going wide as his laugh is cut short with a gasp. There’s the faint sound of buzzing and then it stops as quickly as it started as Jon chuckles softly. “This is going to be fun. Martin, would you help him down?” 

“I thought I was in charge here,” Martin protests halfheartedly, spotting Tim as he obediently scrambles to stand. It’s clumsy but he manages to get to his knees in front of them without incident, and looks awfully proud of himself for it. 

“Get to it then.” Jon says, tugging Martin’s arm up so that he can duck underneath it and snuggle up to his chest, the remote curled in his hand. “I’m done.”

Martin blinks down at him for a second before he has to shake off the bit of fog that had taken him over when Jon gave him an order. When he turns his attention back to Tim though, he’s pulled sharply back into his head. Rabbit ears eskew, Tim is sitting pretty, looking up at them with eyes like little tide pools, dark and tempting. Martin inhales sharply, reaching out with his free hand and Tim’s eyes slip shut as he leans his cheek into the touch. 

“Christ you’re a sight like this,” Martin says, stroking over Tim’s cheek with a thumb, down to the corner of his mouth. Tim’s lips part as he brushes over them, resting in the bow of them for a moment. “You’re so gorgeous, so good for us.”

He feels rather than sees as Tim’s tongue darts out to wet his thumb, and presses it forward almost instinctively. Greedily Tim sucks the digit into his mouth, even leaning forward slightly as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

“Woah there,” Martin says gently, stiffening his wrist to keep Tim from coming any closer. His tongue presses soft and slick against the pad of Martin’s thumb and Martin can feel himself getting wetter between his thighs by the second, like he’s been fucking pavloved by his boyfriend’s mouth. “This feels like entrapment, far too early in the game.”

Tim just hums and manages to smile even more around the finger in his mouth. Huffily Martin taps Jon’s shoulder. “Where’s the other remote?” 

“Here.” Jon presses the small device into his hand. “This is for the one outside.”

“And you have the inside one?”

“Mmhm.”

Tim is peering up at them through his eyelashes now, as if daring them to do something. He bites down gently on Martin’s thumb and then lets it slip out of his mouth. “Come on,” he says, softly taunting. “You’ve gotta get me close to edge me.” 

“Oh _hush,”_ Martin exclaims. “Jon, yours first.” 

Tim is moaning before Martin has even finished speaking, rocking gently back on his heels and forward again as the cock inside him buzzes to life. “Fuck, this was a good idea,” he groans, tipping his head back. His knees slide ever so slightly further apart, and Martin stares at his spread thighs. The thought of putting his foot between them occurs to Martin and his chest tightens, a zip of arousal shooting through him. He tucks the idea away for later. 

For now, he has to set the mood. He slides his hand up, raking his fingers through Tim’s hair and tugging slightly. He wants to slide the headband off but he leaves it, for now. Tim holds steady, smoldering eye contact as he tips his head with the pull, still moving his hips slightly, grinding against the toy inside him best he can. Martin gives him a wicked little smile and then takes his hand away entirely, looking away and reaching for the tv remote on the table next to the couch. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Tim gawk at him, offense clear in his expression.

“I think we’re about settled here, yeah?” Martin says airily, clicking on the television. “Jon, what are you feeling, Planet Earth?”

“You are not going to watch planet earth while I sit down he— _nghh, fuck_ — fuck _you,”_ Tim shudders and rocks heavily forward as Martin clicks the other, smaller remote to the second highest setting, otherwise ignoring his complaints. 

Jon looks up at Martin, a smile twitching onto his face. “How about that one about rock climbing that I’ve been meaning to watch?” 

“You can’t watch The Dawn Wall _without me—“_

Martin looks down at Tim and narrows his eyes. “We’re going to be here a while, aren’t we?”

“Oh, am I not _entertaining_ enough for you?”

“Would you rather be over in the corner?”

Tim pauses, looking from the only empty corner to the television as though judging if it would be a good place to watch from. “No.” He says sulkily. 

“Then I need something to distract me from how entertaining you are.” 

That gets Tim to force back a smile, which he doesn’t entirely succeed at. “Watch something sexy.” 

“We are not watching something sexy.” Jon interjects, stealing the tv remote from Martin. 

Tim’s breath hitches in a way that means he’s found just the right spot, and Martin turns the vibe down two notches. Tim whines very softly and tries to chase the lost sensation for a moment before he settles. “Fine.” He breathes, eyes going glassy for a moment, and this is the part Martin doesn’t quite understand; how both Tim and Jon get off on being denied what they want. He himself is rather selfish, but he’ll indulge them both until the cows come home, no question. 

Tim’s fringe flops in his eyes as he drops his head forward, and Martin worries about his self control again. He almost wishes he couldn’t see Tim’s thighs and therefore wouldn’t be able to see them trembling, for the sake of his composure. 

When Tim turns to nose against Martin’s leg and then presses a wet kiss to his knee, Martin startles and nudges him off. “No cheating, Tim.”

“There was nothing in the rules about that,” Tim mumbles. 

“There is now. Keep your mouth to yourself unless I say otherwise.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tim pulls away obediently. “Good boy,” Jon murmurs without even looking away from where he’s scrolling through documentaries. Tim sucks in a sharp breath. Martin has to swallow down a moan. 

There’s a brief few moments of relative silence, in which Martin debates about touching Tim’s face again. He wants to. He doesn’t think he should. It doesn’t really matter, he’s in charge, who says what he should do anyways? 

He’s just about decided to give up on not touching when Jon settles on something and the tv screen goes white. “There.” Jon says happily, and when the title card appears Martin snorts loudly. 

“You’re kidding.”

Tim starts to turn his head to see and then thinks better of it, looking up to Martin to tell him instead. 

“It’s that movie about the rabbits in the Berlin Wall. Polish.”

“You say that like I would have heard of it.” Tim says, but he’s biting back his own smile as he glances over at Jon. 

“The point is that it’s about bunnies, and your boyfriend is ridiculous.”

Tim flashes a grin. “He was yours first.” 

“Look, Tim won’t understand a word of it, and is therefore less likely to be tempted to turn around.” Jon says defensively, and then holds up the remote for the vibe. “I’m putting this on a pattern now, everyone hush.” 

Tim curses softly under his breath, shifting as Jon switches up the vibrations on the dildo. “That one is nice,” he says quietly after a moment, and Jon concedes, leaving it as it is.

There’s a moment of silence before Tim pipes up again. “But it’s got subtitles, so I don’t see why we need to— _mpphh.”_

Tim’s eyes widen dramatically as Martin reaches out and pushes two fingers into his mouth mid sentence, hooking them behind his bottom teeth for a second. Then he pushes them further, pressing down on Tim’s tongue as he accepts them obediently, eyes fluttering shut. 

“He said hush.” Martin adds for good measure, and it makes Tim moan softly, the sound buzzing under Martin’s fingertips. 

“You good to stay like this?” He asks after a second, and Tim adjusts himself without opening his eyes until he appears to find something he’s happy with; resting his head against the inside of Martin’s knee. Then he nods as much as he can. “Alright.” Martin says. “Bite down if you need anything.”

Another nod, and then they are settled. 

Martin is not watching the television in the slightest. It’s far more interesting to stare at the way Tim’s eyelashes brush against his cheekbones and his cheeks hollow slightly every time he swallows around the fingers in his mouth. Martin tries to keep them still but it’s hard not to pet over that velvety tongue every so often; push against the pointy molar in the back of his mouth. Tim hums contentedly every time, back arching every so slightly. 

After a few minutes Martin turns the vibe back up. Tim draws in a sharp breath through his nose but doesn’t move, save for the way his hips go in jerky little circles. Martin lets him have this, for a while, knowing it will take him a while to get himself close this way with no help. 

“You’re chasing that orgasm awfully determinedly for someone who knows he’s not going to get it,” Jon says out of nowhere, after a solid amount of time acting like he was perfectly captivated by the film. He reaches up to where Martin’s hand is resting on his arm, curling his fingers around it and urging him to turn the vibe off entirely. Tim’s eyes fly open at Jon’s words, and then just as quickly squeeze shut again, his eyebrows creasing in distress as he lets out a small growl of frustration. 

Martin gently pulls his fingers from Tim’s mouth; has to tug a bit to get him to let go. He trails them down Tim’s chin, and Tim tilts his face up, blinking slowly like a cat. “Okay?” Martin asks softly, resisting the urge to pull him closer. A faint smile appears on Tim’s face and he nods.

“Yeah.”

When Jon taps the button of his remote again, Tim takes it in stride, with a deep slow breath and a roll of his shoulders as he straightens up, pushing his hips forward in one smooth motion. He’s got a different approach every time, Martin notes. He wonders if it’s simply getting more difficult.

The difficulty Tim is having grows increasingly more apparent as time goes on; as they let him wind up over and over, only to take it away at what is, thanks to Jon, _just_ the right time; right when it will make Tim curse loudly and his thighs shake. Not too late to ruin; not too early that it won’t _ache_ just a bit.

Martin hopes that he is not so transparent, because true to Jon’s word, the glassier Tim’s eyes become and the closer he edges into Martin’s space, his whines growing more frequent and mouth shinier with spit, jaw looser as he breathes heavy and hot against the inside of Martin’s thigh— the harder it becomes for Martin not to drop to the floor himself and do something rash. 

The film is 52 minutes. Martin guesses it takes about 40 for Tim to start begging.

 _“Please,”_ he chokes out, rubbing his face on Martin’s pant leg. The muscles in his arms strain as he tries not to tug on his bonds and fails. Martin’s eyes shoot to his face and he feels Jon raise his head. 

“Was that a please, Tim?” Jon asks, failing to hide his delighted surprise.

“Just, touch me, please, don’t need to come I just—“

“Shh love,” Martin soothes, reaching out to smooth over Tim’s warm face and push his fringe off his sweaty forehead. Tim shoves his face against Martin’s palm. “You’re doing so well. You can hold out until Jon’s movie is done, yeah?”

Tim nods, a touch frantically. Martin turns the vibe up as he finally gives in to his annoyance and pushes the headband off Tim’s head, pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. Tim’s head lolls to the side. 

“Good boy. You’re so good for us, gonna come so sweet when it’s time.”

The next twelve minutes are interspersed with Tim’s whimpers as he grows exponentially more desperate; Martin shoves a finger in his mouth again near the end to keep him from moaning too loudly, lets him bite gently on his knuckle. 

When the credits roll, he takes his finger back. Tim manages to grin up at Martin despite his questionably lucid state, and Martin squints at him suspiciously.

“D’ I still get to come if I lose the game?” He’s close again, has been for a while, twitching every so often, breath coming unevenly. He shuffles closer as he asks the question, until his knees hit the couch. 

Absently Martin thinks he needs to press his button, take the sensation away again but he’s very distracted watching Tim’s tongue dart out to wet his lips as he looks up hungrily, eyes bright and wild. “I—yes?” He responds, confused. 

Martin’s breath catches and he can’t stop himself, his hips jerk as Tim leans forward, mouth inches from the seam of Martin’s jeans. _“Tim,_ what are you _doing?”_

“I never— _ah_ — planned on winning,” Tim says with a grin, leaning forward and fully licking over Martin’s cunt through his jeans, pressing hard with his tongue. Martin yelps as Jon laughs, loudly, and Tim moans, and it isn’t until Tim shudders like he’s been electrocuted, breaking away from Martin with a strangled cry that Martin realizes he’s accidentally pressed the wrong button on the remote, turning it up, and Tim is _gone._

He buries his face in the crease of Martin’s thigh as he shakes, his pitched desperate curses muffled. _“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,”_ he whines, all of him visibly tense as his orgasm finally pulses through him. 

_“Jesus, Tim,”_ Martin breathes, heart pounding in his ears as he reaches out to stroke tentatively over Tim’s hair. Tim pushes clumsily into it, tilting his head up so that Martin’s fingers drag over his cheek and leaning heavily against his palm, eyelashes fluttering like he’s going to faint. 

He doesn’t pass out, at least not for any perceivable length of time, just goes all floppy as he starts to come down. When he speaks, Martin almost doesn’t comprehend what he says for a moment, too struck by how _ruined_ he looks, face streaked with tears, lipstick smeared across his cheeks and his chin. “Too much,” Tim whispers hoarsely, squirming uncomfortably and when it registers Martin rushes to turn the vibrator off. Jon is way ahead of him, tossing his remote aside and sliding off the couch.

Martin watches, dumbstruck as Jon kneels at Tim’s side, reaching out to tug him sideways. Tim goes immediately, less leaning and more falling, twisting around to half fall against him. Jon gently gathers Tim’s face into his hands, guiding him so they don’t slam together as Tim steals a desperate kiss. 

“Mm, fucking love you,” Tim mumbles into Jon’s mouth. “Christ, so good, I—“

Jon slips a hand down to hold firmly under his jaw and pushes him back slightly, holding him a few inches away. Obediently Tim stays, forcing himself to stop and catch his breath. He doesn’t take his eyes off Jon, and Martin doesn’t know where to look, at his heaving chest, Jon’s hand around his throat, the way they are looking at each other like they’ve just saved each other from fucking drowning. “Can I—“ Tim pauses, and looks back to Martin. “Again, right now, please? One more? I, it won’t take long, just—“

Martin sucks in a breath and lifts his foot, nudging Tim’s knee so that his thighs open further, and sets it between them. Tim’s eyes somehow go darker than they have this entire time and he turns away from Jon to lean back slightly, presenting himself. Jon lets go of his neck, instead sliding his hand down to his chest, petting over his ribs and down to his stomach. 

Martin holds Tim’s gaze silently as he pushes his foot forward, pressing up firmly against the vibe. Tim’s breath hitches and he pushes back, grinding down against it. “Will this do?” Martin asks.

“God, _yeah_ it will.” Tim breathes, grinding in earnest now. Jon leans in and noses behind Tim’s ear, pressing a kiss there and Tim’s eyes fall shut again. He moans softly, tipping his head to the side, silently asking for more. He wasn’t lying when he said it wouldn’t take long; the rocking of his hips goes off rhythm within minutes. When Jon nips at the sensitive spot under his jaw Tim shudders, mouth falling open as another orgasm rolls over him. It looks somehow even better than the first, slow and breathtaking. He doesn’t open his eyes for a long few moments after he goes still, humming quietly as Jon presses more kisses over his throat. 

“I—“

Martin begins to speak but he’s cut off when Jon looks at him, a glint in his eye that makes Martin’s breath catch in his throat. “You won.” He says. 

“You plotted against me.” Martin complains, reaching out for Tim, motioning for him to come up. 

Tim looks at him through heavy lidded eyes for a long moment. Then he grins and shakes his head. 

“No!?” Martin is confused for only a moment before Tim leans in between his legs again. Martin’s breath quickens and he squirms as Tim noses up his thigh and over his crotch; he can feel the hot breath even through the fabric of his trousers and he wonders if they’re damp; he’s absolutely soaked his pants, he’s sure of it. 

Tim makes the question moot, pressing the flat of his tongue over Martin’s dick and putting a steady slight pressure. Martin tenses as he feels a telling shock of pleasure, and claps his hand over his mouth to try and muffle his undignified squeak. 

“Tim I think—“

Tim pulls away and Martin chases him, arching up. “Gonna come just from this, yeah?” Tim breathes, already leaning back in, looking up through his eyelashes. 

_“Yeah,”_ Martin whines as Tim moves his tongue ever so slightly, just to create some friction but Martin barely even needs it, he’s so overwhelmed from watching Tim fall apart, and from Jon giving orders and he didn’t think he’d be _this affected_ but here he is, grinding against Tim’s tongue through his fucking jeans and the orgasm builds so fast it blindsides him. 

“My God, Martin,” he hears Jon say from the ground and he’s gone, head knocking against the back of the couch as he curls his fingers tight in Tim’s hair and comes so hard his ears ring. 

When he opens his eyes again they’re both still on the ground in front of him, looking up, Tim with a tired grin and Jon with a little smile and a promise in his eyes. Tim’s hands are free, and he places them on Martin’s knees to help pull himself standing. His knees wobble a little and Martin reaches out, concerned, still a bit dazed, but Tim just folds down onto his lap again. 

Martin is still sensitive, in every sense of the word and he whines softly as Tim leans in for a kiss. “Hey,” Tim murmurs against his mouth. 

“Hi,” Martin whispers, but it cracks in the middle. Tim kisses him long and sweet but not desperate, not anymore. When he pulls away he looks pleased and content. 

“Wanna help me with all this?” He waves vaguely at his bottom half and Martin’s eyes follow, his heart thudding as he sees Tim’s thighs are almost unbelievably wet, with sweat and slick and Martin wants to lick it so bad. He knows that isn’t what Tim _means,_ but...

“Yeah.” He says simply, and then shoves his hands under Tim’s ass, getting a grip before standing up, bringing Tim with him.

Tim shouts and laughs, wrapping his legs around Martin’s waist which can’t be too comfortable with all the hard plastic in the way, but he doesn’t express any discomfort as he clings to Martin like an octopus. “Woah there cowboy, what is the plan?”

“Jon, bed?” Martin asks, actually asks, not tells, with a glance to the left where Jon is now standing, two remotes and his book in hand. 

“I suppose.” He says with a curious look. 

“Just, I have to… one more thing.” Martin says, already carting Tim off towards the bedroom.

Turning off the lights in the house as he goes, Jon follows. Martin puts Tim on the bed as gently as he can manage, which is still a bit of a toss-- the man isn’t _light_ by any means. Tim sprawls there, looking like the cat that got the cream, letting his legs fall open and his hands curling up by his face. 

“Roll over so I can unzip you?” Martin asks, kneeling on the bed. Behind them Jon opens and closes some dresser drawers before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Tim obeys, grabbing a pillow as he does and burying his face in it. “I hope you’re not planning anything elaborate, because ‘m _all_ fucked out.” He mumbles into the pillow.

“Nothing too involved.” Martin says softly. Reverently he slides a hand between Tim’s shoulder blades before digging the zipper out and dragging it down. Tim sighs and wiggles as it comes undone, and when Martin tugs on it he helpfully lifts off the bed until they’ve gotten it around his thighs. Martin pauses for a moment to touch again, dragging one fingertip up Tim’s spine and sliding a palm up over his ribs. Then he gets the teddy all the way off, grabbing the vibe that had somehow stayed stuck and tossing both things toward the laundry basket.

Tim rolls languidly back over, all bare now, fucking lovely. His eyes are tired but his smile remains. “Almost done.” He says, arching up slightly as he spreads his legs again. The hilt of the dildo looks out of place between his thighs, his cunt stretched obscenely around it. Everything is slick, the curls around it dark and wet. Martin hooks two fingers and a thumb under the edge of it and pulls. 

Tim sighs and shifts as it slides out, clenching around the nothing it left behind. Martin easily slips two fingers in and Tim clenches around those instead, for a long moment before he relaxes and Martin takes them back, sliding down until he feels the hard base of the plug. 

“Okay?” he asks this time and Tim nods. He hisses slightly as Martin pulls it out, and then pouts as Martin moves to turn away. 

Hesitating, Martin holds up the toys in explanation. “I've got to at least put them in the sink. Just—“ he looks Tim up and down, knowing that his affection is clear on his face. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Jon is brushing his teeth when Martin enters the bathroom, ready for sleep in one of Tim’s shirts with the stretched out collars. He raises an eyebrow, looking from Martin to his hands and back again. With a sigh through his nose he spits and rinses his mouth, then runs the water in the sink for a minute before stepping back. 

“That’s gross.” He says as Martin dumps the toys into the sink. 

“I’ll wash them properly later, come on.” Martin says, quickly washing his own hands and then giving the toys a rinse. 

Jon wrinkles his nose and Martin laughs, stepping into his space and wrapping an arm around his waist. “I love you.” He says, leaning in so that their noses brush. Jon manages to glare at him from an inch away, but then closes the distance with a minty kiss, sliding his hands up Martin’s chest. 

“I love you too.” He says softly when they pull apart. “That was good, you both did lovely. I enjoyed it very much.” He eyes the bathroom door. “Done with him yet?”

Martin sucks in a breath. “Almost. Would you bring us a flannel when you’re through?”

Jon nods. Martin kisses him once more.

Tim is right where Martin left him, looking like he’s dozing slightly. He opens his eyes though; peers at Martin when he kneels between his legs again. “Can I help you?”

“Just thought you could use some cleaning up.” Martin says simply as he bends down, and Tim lets out a quiet gasp as Martin licks over the crease of his thigh.

It’s all drying now, tacky in some places, but Martin doesn’t mind. He’s thorough, licking over every inch of Tim’s inner thighs, pressing gentle sucking kisses as he goes. Tim hums and sighs, lazily writhing under the attention. When Martin is satisfied with his job he moves to the middle.

Tim makes a soft, choked noise of surprise when Martin laps gently at his folds and up over his dick. He doesn’t spend too long, just gives Tim’s cunt the same attention before finishing, pressing one last kiss to the jut of Tim’s hip before sitting up.

Tim looks at him like he’s just done some sort of miracle, a sleepy adoration. Jon is there above him, curled in his middle spot at the top of the bed and he hands over the wet cloth in his hands. 

Martin swipes over where his tongue had been with the cloth and then wipes his face, tossing that to the laundry as well. Tim wriggles around, crawling up to curl around Jon and then looking to Martin expectantly. Jon wraps an arm around his shoulder and presses a kiss to his temple.

Martin eyes them for a moment, weighing the importance of his bedtime routine. Then with a sigh he pulls his shirt over his head and rolls off the bed. He shucks his trousers quickly and turns off the light, before crawling right back in at Jon’s other side.

“Oh let me be in the middle tonight,” Tim pleads, and Jon sighs dramatically. 

“Fine.” He says and Tim immediately rolls over him, wedging himself between them. It takes a minute for them to settle and for Martin to get covers over everyone, but when they do Tim’s head is tucked under his chin and Jon’s fingers are tangled in his own. 

“Thanks,” Tim says softly after a moment of quiet. 

“It was good?” Martin whispers back.

“God, so good.”

Martin breathes out. “Good. You’re a fucking cheater.”

“You wanted to win.”

“You didn’t!?”

“Not this time. I can’t _wait_ to watch.”

“Go to sleep.” Jon interrupts them, tone commanding and Martin’s breath catches in his throat. Tim snickers. 

“Goodnight.” He sing songs.

“Goodnight.” Martin breathes.

He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Steve for commissioning me again!! Love these dang boys
> 
> The documentary they watched is real and it is called Rabbit à la Berlin.... just. in case anyone was wondering. Also please forgive my extremely foolish title 
> 
> Yell at me on twitter @squeebop or if you wanna yell about dirty things @archivemedaddy


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